


devils right hand man

by downthedarkpath



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 10:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17979329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downthedarkpath/pseuds/downthedarkpath
Summary: there are days when he can barely remember what it was like before





	devils right hand man

**Author's Note:**

> cw: gore

There are days where he can barely remember what it was like before.

Then there are the days where he thinks he’s better off not remembering the before, because the before only ever served to hurt him and Anti promised himself long ago that’d he’d never get hurt again. And he built up stone cold walls, and he tended to them whenever the cracked, and now there’s the gaping hole where his heart should be and he’s never breathed easier.

There’s something freeing about leaving mortality behind, he thinks. He no longer operates within the limitations of humanity, and that’s beautiful. He’s never pretended to be anything but bad, never pretended not to be someone who sticks fingers in pies that aren’t his. He’s never been good and he’s never pretended otherwise.

Any idea otherwise was an oversight not on his part, but a weight on someone else’s conscience, and Anti would like to keep it that way.

He’s never been good, he’s never had the possibility of a redemption arc, and he’s okay with that. He’s made his peace with that, and he made it years ago.

Now, he buries his fingers in chest cavities that don’t belong to him, deep enough to reach through to the back, and he pulls out lungs and hearts and livers and stomachs. All things that he could have had but didn’t want, because mortality is overrated and he’s tired of it.

He digs through bodies and he turns bone to powder beneath his feet. He’s building a throne up from the ground, and it’s finally something that belongs to him and it’s bleeding red with blood that isn’t his. He’s living on stolen air, on stolen time, and he’s standing at the base of a throne of lies, and it’s his in a way that nothing else has ever been.

Anti has never been the devil’s right hand man, and he’s never pretended to be. Such labels only serve to poke the flames of fear that other people have placed in him, and he feeds off of it, but its been years now.

Years change a person, and these days, he’s much more suited to the devil himself. And it’s a pity no one else can see it, but his throne grows ever higher and the hole in his chest widens ever so slightly and he takes more lives than he’ll ever live, bleeding more blood than he’ll ever own.

He’s their God. And there’s something beautiful about that, isn’t there.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what u thought. this kind of spawned from nothing, wherein i had too much inspiration, not enough motivation, and more words than i knew what to do with. heres hoping someone found some joy in it regardless.


End file.
